Jermy, Marie - Together Forever [The Andersons 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (22 page)

He ignored Jessica’s laughter at his description of Frank Walsh, family friend to both their families.

“Finally, after a year, Ray gets sick of all the earthquakes and moves to New York, where after receiving an anonymous letter informing him of the loss of his son, compensation to the tune of one million dollars—an astronomical amount of money in those days—had been deposited into his bank account. He sets up Magnum Investigations, employs and marries his secretary, Scarlett, your mom. And everybody lives happily ever after.” Ross paused for breath. “Have I missed anything?”

“Nope, that’s pretty much it. Oh, apart from how your sisters, Dad’s goddaughters, were so named. Samantha was in memory of Sam. And Ramona, the female equivalent of Ray, was for Dad. To say thank you for what he’d done.” She poured herself another glass of wine before realizing what she was doing. “Like father, like daughter, hey?” she smirked.

“Ray’s not a drunk.”

“Oh, for those fifteen years of his life he was. Spent time in police cells, too. And got himself arrested many times. That’s how he was reunited with Sam, because he also arrested him. Sadly, it was a week before Sanchez put a bullet in his back so they never really got to know each other.

“Dad sobered up enough to attend Sam’s funeral and the subsequent court case that put Sanchez behind bars. He kept his distance from your mom, though.” Jessica smiled. “Apparently he could feel her volcanic temper from fifty feet away. Decided it was wiser to sort himself out and get help for his alcohol addiction before asking her to tell him about his long-lost son. Obviously it didn’t happen. It took him well over a year before he felt right in himself and that he didn’t need a drink to feel alive.”

“But he still drinks. I’ve seen him. Beer in particular.”

“Non-alcoholic beer,” Jessica corrected. “You know, he blames himself for turning to drink instead of trying to locate Sam. ‘You never solve problems or find answers at the bottom of a bottle,’ was what he said. And he’s right.”

A smile played on his lips. “Is that some sort of dig at me?”

She grinned. “I said at the bottom of a bottle after drinking its contents, not smashing the whole thing against a cupboard.”

“Oh, right. Is there anything else?”

“Sort of. And this is even stranger than that anonymous letter. Obviously with Dad being arrested, he had a record. A rap sheet. But about a year after moving to New York, Frank told him it had been deleted. Someone, and someone who must have had top-level clearance either at the FBI or the police, had wiped out all his convictions. They’d even changed the details of why Dad left the Bureau. It now says on his file he was retired on medical grounds.”

“That is strange,” Ross murmured with agreement, before asking, “Does Daniel know?”

Jessica nodded. “I made Dad tell him. I thought he had a right to know.”

“And what about me? Don’t you think I had a right to know? I mean, Christ, if Carrick hadn’t died, he probably would have married Mom. I could have been their son. And we’d be related in some way!”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so melodramatic.”

“Melodramatic!” he echoed, his tone several octaves higher.

“Yes, melodramatic. You never would have been Sam’s son. You’re an Anderson, not a Carrick. And yes, while you’ve inherited one or two of your mom’s traits, sometimes when I look at you, like I am now, all I see is your father. No wonder you’re named after him, because no other name would have suited you. And you can take that as a compliment,” she added with a smile.

“I still should have been told, either by Ray or my parents. Actually, that’s a good idea. They can tell me right now.” He whipped out his cell phone, but Jessica snatched it from him.

“Ross, stop it! Your parents obviously had their reasons for not telling you, just like mine did. And really, if you think about it, it’s none of your business.” Ross was doing a slow burn so she changed tack. “Sam was a lifetime ago. We should be concentrating on what’s happening now.” She pointed to the BlackBerry. “Rafferty. Do you think he really is dead, and we’ve been dealing with his ghost?”

Ross huffed. “How many times, Jess! Ghosts do not exist. Anyway, you can’t shake hands with a ghost, and I’ve shaken Rafferty’s. The question we should be asking is why would Harknett have a list of dead police officers? And why would Senator Williamson want it, too? I mean he said he was going to fill Harknett’s shoes, but what on earth is going on? It’s not drugs, that’s for sure. What was he going to do with it?”

“That’s four questions,” she pointed out, tongue stuck firmly in cheek.

“And do you have any answers?”

“Pass. Pass. Pass, and pass. Next question?”

“What’s so important about a list of dead officers that it’s worth killing for? Namely you.”

“Are we sure they are dead officers?” Jessica frowned. “These four-figured numbers next to the names. Do you think they’re dates? The years they died. Sam died thirty years ago, so these numbers”—she tapped her forefinger on the screen, indicating to the figures next to Carrick’s name—“correspond. But Rafferty’s says 1875.”

Ross rolled his eyes, not even bothering to answer. He’d known Jessica was stubborn, but her unwavering belief in ghosts was bordering on stupidity. With a weary sigh, he covered his head with his arms on the table.

Jessica laid a hand on his shoulder, her fingers softly stroking his hair. “What’s the matter?”

“My head hurts,” was his muffled reply.

She suppressed a smile. “Well, you know what they say is good for a headache, don’t you?” She felt her sex contracting and moistening when his head lifted and he leveled his sky-blue eyes at her.

“No. What?”

“Sex. And you did say I was dessert.”

Chapter 14

Jessica watched Ross as he calmly turned the BlackBerry off, rose from his chair, and began to clear the table, his every movement controlled and precise. No words were spoken, yet those sky-blue eyes of his spoke volumes.

She was spellbound. None more so than when he returned from the kitchen and approached her. Still without a word, he took her hands and stood her up, then, and with minimal skin contact, lifted her top over her head and deftly removed her jeans.

Standing before him, in just her underwear and Jimmy Choos, she felt her skin flushing under his heated gaze. He lightly ran his fingers over the embroidered mesh of her bra, instantly turning her nipples into pert, tight peaks and down to her belly before clasping his hands around her hips and lifting her onto the table. Parting her legs, he stood between them.

It was only then that he spoke.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

The word had hardly left her mouth before he swiftly removed his tie and used it to blindfold her. She closed her eyes, adding to the darkness, and lost herself in him when his mouth claimed hers with a kiss that, she believed, touched her soul.

He thumbed her nipples through the bra, and she gave a soft mewl of satisfaction.

“I’m so glad I blindfolded you,” Ross murmured in a guttural tone. “My control is already shot, without seeing those amber flecks in your eyes glowing.”

Tracing a path to her ear with his mouth, he gently nipped on her lobe. Though mindful of her bruises, the nip to her neck was not so gentle. She gasped in surprised but thrust her hips forward against his groin. His cock was hard. “Did you like that?” he inquired, sounding a little surprised himself.

“Mmm. Do it again. Mark me as yours.”

He duly obliged, sucking the tender flesh just enough to leave an imprint of his mouth. His hands on the curve of her shoulders, he gently pushed her back until she was flat on the table. Wanting to see him, she pushed his tie up and off her head. There was a chair behind him, and he pulled it closer and sat down, his head level with one extremely tempting view of an embroidered flower placed just so.

“Relax. I want to undo you, like you do me.”

I want to undo you, like you do me.
Ross’s words strummed through Jessica’s mind. No need to undo her. She was already there. Every hair on her body rose as the rough skin of his fingertips traced delicious twirling circles from her ankles, her calves, the back of her knees, and up to her inner thighs. His breath felt hot through the sheer fabric of her thong.

Then, when the tip of his nose nuzzled her clit, a jolt of pure joy ripped through her. Oh, boy, she definitely was dessert. He intended to eat her on the table. She moved her hands from her sides to lace her fingers through his hair, but he placed them back on the table. The cloth felt cool under her fingers, but beneath her body it was burning. She wouldn’t be surprised if she left scorch marks once Ross had finished his course.

For a minute, he did nothing other than nuzzle her clit with his nose. It was soft, gentle, and very relaxing. But then, and still through the sheer fabric, his mouth clamped over her and he licked her with bold, strong strokes of his tongue. He began to hum, adding to the already first tremors of the climax she felt building.

What on earth was he humming? At first, she couldn’t make it out. It was only when he pulled away and murmured a few bars, that she recognized it as Alice Cooper’s “
Poison.”
Her giggle melted into a moan when he once again tongued her clit.

He kept the pressure of his mouth against her clit until she moaned that she was coming. He then turned his head to the right and sucked on the smooth flesh of her inner thigh. His fingers doodled down her left leg, the featherlight circle to the back of her knee producing a low whimper. He returned to her clit, and she rewarded him by crying out his name. But once again, he retreated.

Jessica was going to have some serious words with Ross once she’d climaxed. That’s if he allowed her to. The man was driving her crazy with his advance and retreat technique. She’d never felt anything as tense in her whole life. Through the drenched thong, his tongue on her clit was like a heat-seeking missile. First licking, then sucking, building the pressure inside her so she was ready to let go, but then he’d withdraw and suck on her inner thigh.

His hands had moved to cover hers, and when she tried to shake free, to attempt to hold his head right where she wanted it, he just tightened his grip.

“Do you want me to beg?” she cried, her patience blowing when he once again retreated to her inner thigh.

“No. Just come undone.”

“I’m already there.”

“Mmm, I know.”

Jessica didn’t have the breath to tell Ross exactly what she thought of his smugness, not when his mouth clamped over her. This time, he didn’t let go until the pressure exploded into a blinding orgasm that shook her whole body and turned her into a mass of wet noodles.

Her body still shaking, Ross jerked her upright, and kissed her hard. “Can you taste yourself?” he murmured, drawing back slightly.

“Mmm. Like poison running through my veins.”

He grinned and swept her off the table into his arms. “And now to bed. Where I can really undo you.”

His head bent awkwardly as he nuzzled her neck, Ross strode through the dining room doorway to go upstairs, where Jessica nearly wrenched herself from his arms by shooting both hands out and grabbing the doorjamb, holding onto it for dear life.

“No way, Ross! It’s bad enough you want us to sleep in Williamson’s bed, but to make love there? It would be like…like dancing on the poor woman’s grave. Desecrating her memory.”

Her horrified expression must have changed Ross’s mind. “Okay, point taken. I’ll take you somewhere else. Let go, Jess.”

“Call me Jessica. I love that snotty voice of yours.”

“Snotty? You think I’ve got a snotty voice?”